


Wound

by theprettynerdie



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1547786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprettynerdie/pseuds/theprettynerdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Her kiss was like a wound."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wound

There are some wounds that have an addictive sort of pain to them. They’re the ones that beg to be prodded over and over because, despite the pain, the sensation is sweet.

Every kiss with Ziio felt like that sort of wound.

On the lips, it was a dull ache; on the skin, it was a searing brand. Then a sigh from her would set Haytham’s heart racing, and his lips would descend upon hers once more. He never could get enough of her skin moving against his as he rode her; he would wrap his arms completely around her and whisper into her ear, savoring every shiver of her body against his.

It was like nothing Haytham had ever experienced before. Every movement he made, Ziio matched with equal fervor, always urging him harder and faster. When she rode him, he lost his breath trying to match her speed and enthusiasm. That’s when she would tease him and whisper into his ear, and the words she spoke never failed to bring him to climax.

Sometimes, as the two of them lay wrapped in each other’s arms in the afterglow, Ziio would speak to him in the Kanien’kéha language. On rare special occasions, she would even sing. Haytham especially loved those moments.

Even in the many years following their final meeting in the forest, Haytham felt as though he could still feel the burn of her kiss in the moments between sleeping and waking, or in the dead of winter when a breeze rippled through the air. He would close his eyes and imagine Ziio standing before him, beckoning him toward her as she used to do. Sometimes a ghost of a long-ago touch would meet his skin, and Haytham would attempt to seize the moment before it was gone.

The wounds remained, but the sweetness was gone.


End file.
